


Just Turn Around

by PlayTheAce (thinkofthings)



Category: Bones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Meaning Vincent, Multi, Paralysis, Paraplegia
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-12-20
Updated: 2014-12-20
Packaged: 2018-02-27 04:34:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,401
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2679296
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thinkofthings/pseuds/PlayTheAce
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Vincent's life revolves around other people's bones, and then it's saved by his own. He's going to need a lot of help to get through all of this, and who better to help than the rest of the squintern crew?</p><p>An out-of-order squintern-centric fic dealing with near-death experiences, disability, and the power of friendship. And also a lot of skeletons.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Just Turn Around

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Broadsky doesn't miss, but sometimes his intended target moves.
> 
> All Vincent did was turn around, and he lived.

The person holding the phone didn't look like Booth, but it honestly didn't matter to Jacob.

The short, jerky motions and hunched shoulders furthered his doubt in the person's identity. They weren't Booth, they weren't Brennan, they weren't anyone that Jacob knew. It was obvious, though, that this person was trusted. Who would hand a phone sent by a sniper that had threatened to kill them to someone they didn't trust?

If he couldn't get Booth, he would get someone close to him. Collateral damage, but it furthered his purpose anyway. They'd understand how dangerous he was to have as an enemy and leave him alone, and if they didn't he'd pick them off one by one. Perhaps it would even work better to kill Booth off last.

Jacob didn't worry as he took aim. He didn't falter as he pointed his sniper at the hunched thermal image, right where the heart would be. He didn't regret anything as he pulled the trigger, a smile coming to his face as the voice on the other end of the phone gasped.

He packed up and left, not bothering to check out his handiwork. He never missed, anyway.

o0o0o

Booth was frantic. His eyes darted from the screen to Brennan to Vincent, he flinched at the start of every ring, he pushed buttons as if they could save his life (which they very well could). When his phone finally got the signal, he let out a deep breath and smiled at the squintern looking at him intently before giving him the go ahead.

Vincent smiled nervously, answered, put the phone to his ear, straightened his back, and turned on his heel; all in a surprisingly semi-fluid motion, for someone of his usual level of awkwardness. Perhaps it was the adrenaline? _The adrenal glands are each the size of a nine volt battery and sit upon the kidneys_. His fingers fumbled a little with the phone, but that was to be expected- he was about to talk to a murderer who was hardly even seen by those he killed, who wouldn't be nervous? He opened his mouth to say something, planning to pitch his voice lower to somewhat imitate Booth (though he couldn't do an American accent worth shit), but he was interrupted by the shattering of glass and a sharp, shooting pain in his back. He let out a little, gasping 'oh!', eyes wide and body going stiff. Vincent started to wobble, his knees giving out, but didn't get the chance to fall on his own.

Booth's body crashed into his with a terrible force and he landed on his face with the larger man bracketing him, like some sort of shield that got there a second too late. His back fizzed like the feeling one would get when their foot fell asleep- _the scientific name for that is paresthesia_ \- pins and needles shooting throughout his entire body, and then nothing. Nothing at all.

"Are you alright?"

"Yeah, we're alright."

Vincent was not alright.

There was no excruciating pain, but, really, that was the problem. He couldn't feel the pain that should have been in his back, couldn't feel Booth on top of him, couldn't feel the blood welling up on his pristine lab coat. He couldn't feel _anything at all._

He tried to convey this, somehow, but all he got out were little gasps that eventually got Dr. Brennan's attention. Booth rolled of of him and reached over to turn him over as well, but was stopped by a shriek.

"No! Don't touch him!" Booth looked up sharply at Brennan, confusion all over his face at her outburst. "His spine- oh God, Booth, his spine- We need an ambulance, someone's been shot, hurry!"

"Vincent, can you hear me?"

He nodded minutely, focusing his attention on Booth's voice and the feel- the _feel_ \- of his cheek on the cold floor. He tried to push himself up, or to at least move his arms from their awkward, nearly spread-eagle position, but found that nothing would happen. His body refused to listen to his brain. He couldn't even move his head any more, couldn't turn to look anywhere but the leg of an autopsy table and the dust on the ground.

"Vincent, you need to stay conscious!"

"Look, I need to apply pressure, I know it hurts, but I need to apply pressure-"

It didn't hurt. He couldn't feel it when Booth tried to stop the bleeding, but he knew it was happening and he couldn't decide what terrified him more, so of course he started babbling. No facts came to mind, nothing about bullet holes or snipers or that if he'd been facing another way the bullet would have severed his aorta, nothing but the fear of dying on the floor of the Jeffersonian lab and joining the bodies that he'd once studied on that autopsy table in front of his nose.

"Doesn't- doesn't hurt-" he gasped out, trying his best to breathe slowly even while his body wouldn't seem to listen to him. Trying his best to keep from giving up. All he ever did was his best. That wouldn't be enough, would it? Not to stay at the Jeffersonian, not to beat his problems, not to _live_.

"That's good, right?" Brennan knew it wasn't good, all of them knew that, but Booth told her it was anyway and Vincent wanted to cry. He didn't know what he was saying, all he knew is that his vision was growing dark and his once-jumpy mind was pin-pointed on the idea of _dying_ , of the nothingness that he knew awaited him. He didn't know what to do- he didn't believe in a god, especially not a kind one that he could plead to. The only powers he knew of were Dr Saroyan and Dr. Brennan. The latter of those was beside of him and leaning down now, so that she could see his face. He looked at her, tears in his eyes and fear in her's, and started to speak in sobbed, breathy, fragmented sentences. 

"Please don't- please don't make me leave. I- I love being here, just don't make me leave."

"No, we love you here, we don't want you to leave!" Dr. Brennan was pleading, sounding nothing like the detached woman that Vincent knew. Her hand reached down to hold one of his, bringing it up to clasp it in both hands in front of her. He could see it but not feel it, even though his senses seemed to be almost heightened by the way he could feel grit from the floor scratching his cheek and temple. The strangeness of knowing (that he _should_ be feeling her hands on his and Booth's hands on his back and the pressure on his stomach from being pushed down and really any feeling from the neck down at all) made his brain slip deeper into fear for his life and his body. His panicked mind didn't know what to do, and her words didn't matter as her tone and her tears only pushed his brain further into a terrified state.

"Please don't- just don't make me go!" Vincent's words came out in little, shaky sobs, tears welling up to match his mentor's. He loved her, she and Cam were like his American mothers now, and Angela was a sister and Hodgins was a brother and all of the other interns were his favorite people in the world, he liked all of them here, _loved_ them, even. "I-I don't wanna go, I love- it's been lovely... being... here with- with- with-" 

"You can stay here as long as you like, Vincent!" Brennan was the frantic one now, trying to calm the young man in front of her but only working herself into a frenzy. She had one last thing, one last tool to try to keep this boy with her. "You're my favorite, everyone knows that! Right, Booth?" She looked at the agent for help, even though he was focused on his hands and arms, and by the time she looked back at Vincent, his eyes had closed and his gasped words had ceased.

Even as Brennan kept on shouting for her intern to wake up, to listen to her, to stay, _please_ , Booth kept up the pressure on his back.

Their only comfort was the faintest of heartbeats, kept safe from the bullet by bone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This will be out of order, and each chapter summary will explain where it belongs. Once I have more chapters, I'll post a timeline chapter. This mostly focuses on Vincent since he's the intern that dies and therefore don't know anything more about afterwards, but the others do play a significant part. This is a complete AU, so everything after Hole in the Heart doesn't apply. However, Booth and Brennan do get together while they think Vincent is dying, and they do capture Broadsky in much the same way as they canonically do.


End file.
